


The biggest adventure you can take is to live your dreams

by mariothellama



Series: The journey [1]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: Fearing you will never find true love, Following Your Dreams, M/M, Maybe Erik and Marco had already met?, Seeking true love, Swimming and bathing, contemplative reflective feel, dreams and visions, mention of sexual activity, restless spirit, romantic, there is a happy ending in the sequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-10-20 14:03:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10664151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mariothellama/pseuds/mariothellama
Summary: This is a prequel to 'Wir halten fest und treu zusammen', which gives an insight into Erik's life before he met Marco and explains why he set off on this mysterious journey to find his true love.





	The biggest adventure you can take is to live your dreams

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pinkquill22](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkquill22/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Wir halten fest und treu zusammen](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10619274) by [mariothellama](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mariothellama/pseuds/mariothellama). 



> My dear pinkquill22
> 
> I am not really in the mood yet to go back to writing my 'normal' stories and this idea floated into my head last night. I know that you liked the idea of Erik and Marco in these roles- as do I!- so I wrote this for you as a small thank you for all of your lovely comments. I hope that you like it!

Erik stretched before diving into the pleasantly cool water, swimming off strongly and gracefully almost as if he was an elegant, exotic sea creature. He loved to swim here in the private pool of his quarters, the one time he was truly alone, that he could truly be himself without anyone making demands of him. That luxury was usually denied to him even in his night time hours, the hours when most men were granted rest and repose. But this was his time and space, the shimmering black and gold tiles that lined the pool reflecting his mood, alternating light and dark.

He always swam naked as this was the one time nobody would dare to disturb him, luxuriating in the feel of the water flowing over his skin, kissing and caressing his smooth flesh, at the way in which the sound of the world outside was muffled and magically transformed by the water’s soothing weight. But what he really gloried in was the evidence of his own strength and suppleness, the sensation of his muscles flexing and tensing powerfully as they pulled him through the water, slicing through it sharply and smoothly.

He felt strong and alive and free as he swam length after length of the pool, letting his mind float free, concentrating on his physical body and how far he could push it. When he reached the point at which he thought he could swim no further, he forced himself to swim two more lengths, before turning onto his back to calm his breathing, floating there, letting the water bear the weight of his bones and muscles, feeling weightless, disconnected, letting his mind drift.

He could have stayed like this forever, blocking out the world outside, pretending that it didn’t exist, but finally he accepted that duty was calling him and reluctantly swam over to the side of the pool, climbing up the steps leading to the chamber beyond. He smoothed back his wet hair as the water ran down his body. And then he rang for his assistants, surrendering his precious solitude.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like them, they had been together for years now and he could even call them his friends. They talked and laughed as they prepared Erik for the evening ahead, shaving him so that he was clean and smooth everywhere except for around his private parts. And then they carefully washed him, hair and body, the water scented with the precious and costly sandalwood carried on the trade routes that were the lifeblood of their city. Erik never wore heavy and cloying perfumes. He had long ago learned what herbs, oils and plants best served to subtly accentuate his natural fragrance and make him smell irresistible and intoxicating.

And then they rubbed lightly-scented oil into every inch of his skin, making sure that his flesh was soft and supple, that his skin would feel like the finest silk to the touch. This was their job, as it was his, and Erik let them do it without complaint or question. But he felt somehow restless today, as if these hands and fingers massaging even the most intimate parts of his body were an unwelcome intrusion, an invasion of his person. He stood there for a minute or two afterwards, letting the rich oils sink into his body, leaving no trace of its presence behind save for deliciously soft, delicately scented skin.

A silk robe was held out for him to put on, for comfort as much as to hide his nakedness. He couldn’t suppress his soft sigh as the fabric whispered across his body, kissing and caressing it like the lover Erik so badly longed for. And Erik couldn’t stop thinking of _him_ as he smoothed a hand over the black robe before tying its golden belt round his waist.

Master Jürgen bought his silks from the best merchant in town and Erik was often by his Master’s side in his Hall of Business. He liked to learn about the outside world and get news of what was going on. And he always tried to be present when the silk merchant came calling, hoping that it would be one of the very rare days when his son would accompany him.

The son of the silk merchant fascinated him. He had rejected his family’s merchant tradition passed down over generations and chosen instead to apprentice himself a bounty hunter. Not only was this an extremely unusual profession for someone from Marco’s background, but it was unknown for someone from the merchant class to bind themselves as an apprentice. But Marco had done it and successfully so, forging his own unique path in life.

Marco was always a breathtaking sight, plainly dressed in contrast to Erik’s rich finery. He was tall and slender, but strong and powerful, the heavily-muscled planes of his body barely concealed by the close-fitting black clothing he preferred to wear. And he seemed to shine to Erik’s enraptured eyes, to glow like the sun, his red-gold hair glinting in the shafts of sunlight pouring through the windows of Master Jürgen’s Hall. Erik wanted to drown himself in Marco’s amber-gold eyes. And his smile. Erik had once been gifted with a glimpse of that crooked smile, a smile that lit up Marco’s whole face, a smile that seemed private and intimate, and he cherished the memory, hugging it to him like something precious.

But he knew instinctively that, even though he could well afford it, Marco was not the kind of man to seek out the services of a courtesan. He wanted his bed partners to be willing and free, to come to his chamber out of love and desire alone. Nor would a man like that, a man who was powerful, vibrant and alive, ever be interested in someone like Erik with his pampered, privileged life. But Marco was a dream of something Erik so desperately wanted for himself one day, something he was starting to fear that he would never have.

He settled himself on the divan to rest. He had a couple of hours until it was time to dress for the banquet. He would be an honoured guest at the side of his companion for the evening, but his companion would want to spend the night with him as well and he knew all too well that he would want to do more than just sleep.

Erik was the most celebrated male courtesan in the capital city, if not the entire kingdom. And he was worth every last piece of gold that was paid for his services. He was a cultured, intelligent and charming companion whom any man would be proud to have by his side. And he wasn’t vain, but he knew that he was handsome. And he was incredibly skilled, skills that he had honed over the years.

Erik was proud of his expertise, not just in being a good lover, but in his creativity at being able to drive a man out of his mind with desire. He knew that his mouth and tongue on a man could send him into the highest ecstasies of bliss. And his bath today had reminded him of what he loved to do most.

Erik’s signature move, the one he was justly famed for throughout the land, was to be bathed and liberally coated in oil by his assistants before the hungry eyes of his waiting companion for the evening. And then he would to use the strength, suppleness and grace of his oiled and slippery body to bring his companion to their release over and over again, just with his body, without using hands or mouth, until his companion was drained, exhausted and satisfied beyond the wildest dreams of any man alive.

And he knew that he was incredibly privileged. He had chosen this life of his own free will, above all to make sure that his family were safe and well-provided for, that they would never have to want for anything ever again and he had been successful in that. But he also knew that he had been lucky in Master Jürgen, the man who had been like a second father to him, who had seen potential in him that nobody else had and helped him to become who he was today.

It was Master Jürgen who had sensed that Erik would prefer to only have the company of men, who had given the young Erik the time to get used to this idea, to grow into his new role. And he had always respected and defended Erik’s boundaries. He would accompany his companions anywhere they wanted, but they could only experience him intimately here in his chamber, where he was safe and secure. He was allowed to choose his companions. Master Jürgen possessed both a heart and shrewd business sense and he knew that the fact that money alone could not buy Erik made him even more desirable and sought after, not to mention more valuable.

And, most important of all, he was nearly twenty-five years of age but he had never been kissed. He was allowed to save his kisses for the man who he hoped would one day capture his heart. His companions could kiss him on the cheek or the forehead, or gallantly on the hand, but his lips were reserved for true love’s kiss. Erik often imagined how that would feel in his daydreams, how it would feel to have warm lips pressed upon his, how the tender and passionate caresses of his lover’s mouth and tongue would feel, how it would feel to melt with bliss into the arms of the one he loved.

Now, in the last years of his service, he had a handful of regular companions that he spent time with, some of whom he had known for years. And occasionally he permitted a lucky individual to spend the night with him, just to keep up his reputation, his mystique and his allure. More than one of his regular companions had expressed an interest in them being together exclusively after his service was ended. One had even begged him to join himself to him as his Heartsbondsman, the only way that Erik could be released from his service before the twelve years were up.

But Erik could never do that. He could only bind himself to the heart of one he truly loved. And he could never do that to Master Jürgen, break his contract and leave his service under false pretences. Master Jürgen was a fair and honourable man, as was Erik. Erik could never make a vow that he did not truly mean.

But he was becoming afraid. Afraid that it was becoming too late to find love. Afraid that he had closed himself off to love for far too long and that he was losing the ability to love. He felt as if his heart was slowly withering and dying inside him, just like the petals of a beautiful rose slowly withering and blackening before dropping sadly to the ground.

Erik dropped off into a fitful and disturbed sleep, falling into a dream that was not a dream. It was all too real, too vivid. It wasn’t truly a dream but a vision he realised when he jolted violently awake, reaching out for something that he had almost been able to touch in his dream, longing for it and mourning it, feeling its loss like a bereavement.

But the dream wasn’t a faint memory, it throbbed like a clarion call in Erik’s consciousness, haunting him with its promise and beauty.

He had been swimming naked in a beautiful lake under starry sky, happy, peaceful and filled with joy. He had felt safe and secure, he could sense that in his vision self, and above all he had felt loved.

And then he had seen himself climb out of the water, walking towards a man who already stood by the side of the lake waiting expectantly for him.

He saw himself through the man’s eyes, wet, naked and elegant, his arms gracefully raised to sweep his wet hair back from his face, droplets of water running down his body that glistened like a precious gem in the pale moonlight. He could feel the emotions coursing through the mysterious man on the lakeside, desire, wonder and love. Love for Erik. He could feel how the man longed to worship and adore not just Erik’s beautiful body, but his heart and soul, his true self. This man truly loved him, deeply and without question.

He heard his own voice uttering the words he had obviously been longing to say, ‘Make me yours. Make love to me.’ Erik knew that there was a name secreted in those words, a name that tasted sweet as honey on his lips as he said it, a precious name that was still hidden from him.

Erik didn’t know who the man was. He never saw him in his vision. He only saw and heard himself through the eyes of the man on the river bank. But he knew beyond all doubt that this was the man who could heal his dying heart with his love. His true love, his destiny, was out there calling to him.

And Erik knew something else without a doubt. The man in his dreams would never come to him here in this closed, cosseted, privileged world he lived in. He was out there somewhere in the world beyond the city and Erik had to go and find him. He couldn’t wait here any longer, suffocating in luxury but starved of true love. He had to leave right away to find the man of his dreams, or more accurately the man in his dream. So he stood up, discarding the costly silk robe he wore and letting it fall to the floor, looking around for clothing appropriate for his journey.


End file.
